


And Then There Were Three

by a_quirk_called_insanity



Category: Forever (TV), Merlin (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Immortal Merlin, Immortality, Magic, Modern Era, POV Henry, POV Merlin, Reveal, Temporary Character Death, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 10:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7358455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_quirk_called_insanity/pseuds/a_quirk_called_insanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry used to think Adam and himself were the only immortals. Merlin used to think living forever was his burden alone. They were both wrong. And now, when Merlin sees Henry die, everything will change.<br/>Set after season 5 Merlin and S1 E6 Forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Then There Were Three

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there!  
> So, this is something that I wrote awhile ago, and I know both shows have ended, but I still wanted to post it.  
> TW: very brief gore/gun violence, temporary death  
> Enjoy!

Henry used to think Adam and himself were the only immortals. He was wrong.

Merlin used to think living forever was his burden alone. He was wrong.

It started out as any normal day would- Henry woke early in the morning, got dressed, and spent most of the day holed up in his lab, reading books and doing experiments, waiting for Abe to come down the stairs and tell him that Jo had called with a case. He had the day off, since the morgue had been surprisingly empty, and Henry found himself wishing for a corpse to show up, even if just to relieve him from his boredom. He only emerged for meals, chatting briefly with his son and anxiously staring at the phone, waiting for it to ring, before admitting defeat and retreating once again to his laboratory. But after dinner, when the stars had come out, twinkling in the night sky, he found himself reluctant to go back down, so instead he donned his coat and exited the shop.

It was a brisk winter evening. He strolled along with his hands tucked in his pockets, safe from the biting wind, watching his breath appear like clouds every time he exhaled. It was dark out, and the sidewalks were emptier than usual, even considering the time. Most sane people would be huddled inside with a warm drink, perhaps in front of a blazing fire. Or at least, that's how it would have been decades ago. In the modern times, it was more likely that people would simply crank up their heat and continue on with their busy lives.

Henry was thankful for the solitude. Silence meant that he could have a chance to reflect on recent events- especially Adam. Adam was out there somewhere, maybe even watching Henry that very minute, and he was dangerous. Adam was a psychopath, a killer, but he was also immortal. He was the one person who truly scared Henry, even more so after the Jack the Ripper look-alike case. The memories of how easily Adam had slit his throat, how skillfully, was enough to make him shudder.

A sudden click was enough to jolt Henry out of his thoughts, and he could feel something hard being pressed into the back of his head.

"Empty your pockets or I'll shoot," a gruff voice commanded. Henry fought the urge to roll his eyes as he reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a $20 bill, glad he had left his pocketwatch at home. A gloved hand snatched the money away. "Is that it?" Henry nodded, his hair brushing up against the gun. The weapon was removed from Henry's skull.

"Don't turn around," the voice ordered. "Or I'll-"

He was cut off mid-sentence by the sound of two bodies colliding. There were a few whispered words and a loud thud, but not before the bang of the trigger being pulled. White-hot pain erupted in Henry's stomach and he collapsed on the cement, a mixture of pain, shock, and confusion muddling his mind. Each breath sent ripples of agony through his torso, and he semiconsciously diagnosed himself with a punctured lung. He tried to see through the haze of both oxygen deprivation and blood loss, red outlining his vision, but the effort was too much. All he could make out was someone falling down to his knees at the doctor's side.

"Oh, damn," the man kneeling next to him muttered. "Oh, damn, you got shot."

All Henry could make out was a blob of dark hair and pale skin, although even that was fading as darkness and pain consumed him.

Henry shot up out of the frigid water, gasping for air as soon as he surfaced. The water was close to freezing, and Henry's body was already wracked with shivers. He was losing the feeling in his limbs and he needed to get out of the river before he died a second time that night, this time of hypothermia. He swam towards the shore, his muscles cramping up and his teeth chattering uncontrollably. Dying in the wintertime was never fun for him. Well, at least the river wasn't frozen over. That always led to unwanted complications (for instance, drowning repeatedly because the ice kept him trapped underwater, until Abe realized he was missing and came with something to break through the ice and pull a half-frozen Henry out before he died again).

By the time he reached the land, he had lost all the feeling in his body. he scanned the area desperately for anyone he could ask to borrow a phone and/or clothes from. He would even settle for a police officer- at least cells had indoor heating- but the area appeared to be deserted. Great, he thought angrily. All I wanted was to go on a walk!

Just when he had given up hope, he spotted someone walking towards him. As the person came closer, he could see they were carrying something that appeared to be a towel and clothes. He was a young man, no older than early twenties, with dark hair, hardened blue eyes, large ears, and skin pale enough to belong to one of Henry's cadavers. He looked strangely familiar, but Henry's brain couldn't place him. The young man stretched out his arms, offering Henry the bundle and averting his eyes respectfully.

"Thank you," Henry said carefully, trying not to convey his skepticism as he dried himself off with the fluffy towel. It felt like it was radiating heat, and his gelid body relaxed as it thawed. But Henry still had no clue how the stranger knew to bring Henry these things. Was he a stalker like Adam? Or did he just happen to have them in his car? He pulled on the sweats and thick socks, realizing that he didn't have any shoes.

"Oh, sorry, here," the man said with a British accent, handing Henry a pair of winter boots. He pulled up the hood of the sweatshirt and jammed his hands into the pockets. Maybe he had known one of the man's relatives in England, and he happened to look like him? It still didn't explain why he had a towel and warm clothes with him. Unless… Unless he had been in this same situation as Henry was. But no, that's impossible, he reminded himself.

"What happened to your clothes when you came here?"

Henry froze. It was almost as if he was asking about Henry's death. But he couldn't be! Could he? His eyes widened as he finally figured out where he recognized the man from- he was the one who had somehow taken out the thief, the one who saw him get shot.

He had seen Henry die.

"Excuse me?" Henry attempted to sound confused, tilting his head slightly.

"We both know what happened," the man bit his lip. "I saw you get shot. I saw- Sorry, I didn't catch your name. I'm Merlin."

Merlin extended a pale hand to Henry, who shook it. As soon as he came in contact with his skin, a wave of warmth travelled through his body, dispelling any remnants of cold, and Henry was almost sure Merlin's eyes had flashed gold.

Henry considered lying about his name, but something in the pit of his stomach- instinct, he guessed- compelled him to be truthful. "Henry."

"Pleasure to meet you, Henry," Merlin said with a small smile, releasing his hand. "So back to before. Was that teleportation? Because I could've sworn you actually died. Or are you of the Old Religion? But then why would you lose your clothes? Or was that ressurection? Did Avalon reject you?"

Henry blinked in confusion. The only part he understood from the ramblings was that Merlin was fully aware that Henry had died.

"Or wait," Merlin continued, and this time, Henry could clearly see his eyes change from a worn-out blue to molten gold, and then back again. Merlin gasped softly, and his face lit up. "You're immortal!" Merlin announced, his mouth wide, and Henry took a step back, ready to run home and pack up everything as soon as possible.

"I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong person."

"No, no, wait!" Merlin cried, even though the last thing Henry wanted to do was wait. He wanted to run, far away, and never see this 'Merlin' again. "This is brilliant! I'm immortal too!"

It started out as any normal day would- Merlin curled up in bed at his New York City flat, reading through the most recent addition to his personal library, absentmindedly stroking Sir Kitty with his free hand. The book had taken years, and dozens of spells, to locate, but it was worth it. All 200-something handwritten pages were filled with spells, both of the Old Religion and experimental ones invented by the author herself. Every few pages, he would pause his reading and test one out, most working after only a few tries. Centuries and lots of practice had increased his magic's power so drastically that he would never need to pull an all-nighter to master a single spell again (except healing spells- Merlin never could get those to work right). Sir Kitty had long since grown used to random outbursts of magic, and even enjoyed being levitated around the room.

Moving to New York had been a split-second decision. back in England, a few years ago, he had read an article concerning New York City in a London newspaper, and it had caused his magic to flare up. That night, Avalon sent him dreams telling him to go there. Merlin had learned to trust the strange dreams that visited him almost every night, since they always turned out to be right. If Kilgharrah had still been alive, Merlin would have gone to him to ask if he could be a Seer, but with no one left to question, he could only guess.

By the time it was night, Sir Kitty was loudly meowing, which meant he was hungry. Merlin reluctantly climbed out of bed and, with a flash of his eyes, sent a can of tuna flying out of the fridge and emptied its contents into the food bowl. Merlin sighed as he watched the yellow cat gobble up the meal, deciding it wouldn't hurt to get some fresh air.

It was chilly outside, and the only winter clothes he had was his ratty brown jacket, but the problem was easily taken care of with a few whispered words that made an invisible layer around him to protect himself from the cold. The streets were empty, with only a few cars and pedestrians in sight, but Merlin enjoyed the stillness of it all. No half-hearted searching through the crowds for a blonde-haired, blue-eyed prat; no staring wistfully at those around him, wishing his life was as easy as theirs; no slouching slightly from the accusing glares of others, observing his shabby clothes and jumping to the conclusion that he was a junkie who had lost his job and spent all his money on more drugs (there were too many people like that in New York, and Merlin no longer cringed at the sight of a homeless person begging for money. He had become used to it, learned to suppress the urges to empty his pockets to every unfortunate soul. He knew that living for centuries had made his grow hard, indifferent, distanced from everything, but he couldn't bring himself to care.)

Up ahead, Merlin's 'inner eye' could see a scene that make Merlin wince, despite the normality of it- one man holding a gun up to another's head, the latter drawing money from his pockets and handing it over. He had seen this countless times before- as soon as the victim handed over all their money, the thief would shoot, leaving behind a corpse stripped of anything remotely valuable. Merlin sprinted to them, pushing the man with the gun to the side, but it was too late. The gun fired.

Merlin muttered a spell and the robber crumpled into a heap on the sidewalk. The victim followed suit, and Merlin could only watch as the stranger's life slipped away with the blood pouring from his stomach.

"Oh, damn," Merlin mumbled, sinking to one knee, staring wide-eyed at the hole in the man's abdomen. "Oh, damn, you got shot." But his eyelids dropped. Merlin placed two shaking hands on the wound, murmuring every spell that came to mind, trying and failing to heal it. "Stay with me, please, don't die. Please don't die," Merlin begged, his eyes stinging with unshed tears, but the man was already gone. Merlin sniffed, shutting his eyes. Sure, he had seen plenty of people pass, but it still hurt like hell every single time.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light and… the man was gone. Hope surged through Merlin's chest. The only thing that could create a flash like that was magic, which meant there was a chance he had survived. Merlin reached out with his magic and found him, alive and well. The warlock grinned with relief, wiping away phantom tears. He easily teleported himself to where the man was, wanting to make sure he was alright, but he missed and landed a few hundred feet away, next to a river. Why would that man come here? he wondered, looking around for him, finally spotting him swimming across the river and towards the shore. The warlock shivered empathetically, knowing just how could the water would be in these conditions.

As the man (sorcerer?) trudged out of the water, Merlin noticed two things. The first was that he was completely healed, and the other, that he was completely naked. Merlin magically summoned a towel and some warm clothes, enchanting them to retain body heat and give off heat of their own. He stumbled down the river bank to deliver them. Maybe his clothes hadn't been teleported with the rest of him? But then why hadn't Merlin seen them lying on the sidewalk? He would ask as soon as the stranger was dressed and no longer at risk from hypothermia.

Merlin held out his bundle and flinched when he could hear his teeth chattering when he thanked him. Merlin looked away as he dried off and got dressed, the enchantments ceasing his shivering. Merlin's eyes travelled back to him, now fully dressed- except for shoes.

"Oh, sorry, here," Merlin summoned a pair of winter boots as well, grateful that the darkness hid both the fact that he had not been carrying boots before that moment, and that his eyes had changed color. The man pulled them on and lifted the hood of the sweatshirt, shoving his hands into the toasty pockets. If only Merlin had known any heating enchantments back in Camelot- then he could have used them for all those frigid nights he spent huddled next to a fire while hunting or on patrol with Arthur.

"What happened to your clothes when you came here?" Merlin asked. The man's eyes filled with fear, but it was quickly masked with a confused expression. Like a sorcerer hiding magic in a place where sorcery was condemned.

"Excuse me?" (He had a British accent, Merlin realized, just like himself.) It was a good attempt at feigning oblivion, and it would have worked if Merlin hadn't known what to look for, hadn't done the exact same thing to protect his secret from a certain clotpole centuries ago.

"We both know what happened," Merlin said calmly, biting his lip in anticipation of the man blowing up, like a ticking bomb on the verge of exploding. "I saw you get shot. I saw-" Merlin changed tactics mid-sentence, going for formalities instead, like a proper British man. Merlin had always found it easier to trust someone when they were polite and remembered their manners, so why shouldn't the same thing apply to this man? Plus, if he ran off, it would be easier to find him again if Merlin knew his name. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name. I'm Merlin." Merlin held out a hand, relieved when the other man responded.

"Henry," he supplied, and when he took the warlock's hand to shake it, he sent a burst of heat into Henry to help get rid of any lingering chill.

"Pleasure to meet you, Henry," Merlin said with a smile, trying to show that he didn't mean any harm before launching back into the previous topic. "So, back to before. Was that teleportation? Because I could've sworn you actually died. Or are you of the Old Religion? But then why would you lose your clothes? Or was that ressurection? Did Avalon reject you?"

When Merlin said "died", Henry's placid expression changed for a moment to one of terror, before sliding effortlessly back into the peaceful, yet baffled, one. But as Merlin continued to speak, the confusion seemed to grow.

"Or, wait," Merlin extended a few invisible tendrils of magic towards Henry, and he knew his eyes would be shining with golden light, but he didn't care, because what he felt was incredible. Henry was covered in traces of ancient time, much like Merlin himself was, except only a few wisps compared to Merlin being doused in it. Tufts of death clung to him like he was a magnet. On the outside, Henry appeared young, in his thirties, but on the inside, he was over 200 years old. Which meant-

"You're immortal!" Merlin realized, his eyes returning to normal, his mouth agape. For centuries, Merlin thought he was alone in his curse, that he alone had been denied his rightful place in Avalon, among the dead. But here was someone else, someone who shared Merlin's curse. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice Henry taking a step back.

"I'm sorry," Henry apologized in an unapologetic tone. "I think you have the wrong person."

"No, no, wait! This is brilliant!" Merlin exclaimed, hope filling up every part of him. He wasn't alone. There were others like him. Henry couldn't leave now, not when Merlin needed him so badly! He blurted out the first truthful thing that came to mind, the one thing that would convince him to remain: "I'm immortal too!"

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave feedback to let me know what you thought (and to make my day :D), and have a wonderful day!


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